Amy's Anniversary
by timeforanedventure
Summary: Amy needs comforting on her anniversary; enter the Doctor, right on queue. Amy/Eleven, smut, a little swearing, and a teeny tiny Amy/Rory. Second chapter is more of a prequel, no smut there I'm afraid, but it does expand on the story. My first two fanfictions combined into one. As always, I welcome your suggestions. Story Timeframe indeterminate.
1. Chapter 1

"The TARDIS really does have a room for everything", mused Amy as she sat passively, half watching the latest action spectacular, translated from original Atraxi by the TARDIS translator circuits in real time, that Rory had picked out for them to watch on their 'quiet night in', in honour of their anniversary. She wondered absently if something had been lost in translation, as the stilted dialogue and hideous cliches were cropping up more regularly than she'd have liked, but then, the TARDIS was not often wrong, she considered.

Looking at Rory, she sighed. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy this sort of film; on the contrary, she'd be happy with a Michael Bay film as much as the next person, but when faced with an evening in, a rare occurrence these days, she'd much rather watch something with a soul, a sense of moral purpose. "Men." she thought. "A whole universe of cultures and species, and the same in every one. Caring, kind, loving even (here she glanced at Rory again, his eyes glazed over, digesting the flames that had been brought to life by the virtual reality suite in front of them), but very little depth. Well, she considered, not in every species.

Glancing at the inertial time display (the TARDIS was parked inconspicuously behind a wall by the tower of London), she caught sight of the Doctor, her Doctor, tinkering away on an obscure bit of the TARDIS console, occasionally pausing to stroke the panelled casing, as if reassuring it, coaxing a colour change out of the lights in the central tube. He'd made his excuses earlier in the evening, and not for the firt time, Amy pitied him. He had nobody, not really. He had, once, but time passes. Looking at Rory again, she wondered how she had fallen for him, over her raggedy Doctor. She had,`after all, met the Doctor first. She supposed that she was, after all, a pragmatic woman, and the Doctor had not been there, whilst Rory had. And everyone had thought she was mad. Anger coursed through her system, long suppressed but now getting release. She snapped out of it suddenly, and with a start noticed Rory looking at her questioningly. Unclenching the fists she had unconsciously made, she spoke.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked. "I completely missed that."

"I said," replied Rory, gesturing towards the door, "why don't we go upstairs?"

Amy's heart fluttered in anticipation as he took her hand, guiding her through the control room and towards their bedroom. "Just catching an early night, Doctor." Rory called over his shoulder, flashing what Amy took to be a knowing glance at her as he spoke, making her cheeks flush.

Inside the bedroom, she stepped into the bathroom, promising to be out in just a minute, glancing teasingly over her shoulder at her husband. It took her much less than that to slip off her shirt, pulling it up over her head and letting it drop to the floor next to her. She looked at herself in the mirror, and worried once more about her body. Rory had said that he was happy with her natural body, but she had learnt the hard way not to take men at their face value when they said that. Ever since her days as a kissogram, dressing in those ridiculous outfits, she had taken care to maintain her hairless legs, and a neatly trimmed topiary of hair down below, but she often wondered if that was enough. She knew Rory preferred women with a larger cup size, and although he reassured her that her pert breasts were 'Fantastic' and 'Perfect', she was still insecure about how they both felt about her body.

Stepping out of her jeans, replacing them with her best floaty, translucent nightdress, she combed her hair down one side and took care to apply just a hint of Rory's favourite perfume in all her favourite places. The fact that he shared her preference for the back of her neck and the insides of her thighs was not a coincidence, for she had had ample time to train him up to do the best he could to please her. And it payed off, with her senses being stimulated in all the most exquisite ways. When it happened, of course. Not all that often, nowadays, which worried her.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she walked, hips swaying seductively as she placed one shapely leg in front of the other, the soft carpet brushing lightly against the soles of her feet while her long, ginger hair curled over one shoulder in the way she knew he liked best. Her eyes fell upon the muscled form of her husbands torso, deceptively lean, but deliciously rippling in muscles, and knew he was in for a treat. She'd put a lot of effort in tonight.

Her heart followed her eyes in their fall as she saw that he had fallen asleep, her picture against his chest. Smiling sadly, she prized it out of his grasp, and set it back down on the bedside lay on her side, curled up behind her husband, before the tears began to fall silently.

"Come on girl," she thought to herself, "you knew that these perfect evenings never happen anymore, that's what marriage is about. The magic goes, pull yourself together." Unsatisfied, she lay in the darkened room until there were no more tears to cry. This was normal, she supposed, for the loving, perfect, amazing and dull husband she had chosen. She'd always seen herself as independent, but not tonight, not when she was vulnerable. Now she just needed someone to be there. Sleep came slowly, creeping in like a shadow, until it engulfed her mercifully.

It was still dark when Amy awoke, and she felt a glimmer of hope as she felt Rory's strong arm wrapped around her waist, his skin warm against hers, so she rolled to press herself against his chest, ready to forgive him for the previous night and curl up against him for comfort. But, as always, she was disappointed to find that his head lolled on his shoulder and his arm was made heavy by the dullness of sleep, and not the flames of a passionate embrace. Sadly, she lifted his arm, crawling out of his sleeping grasp, and folded it back. She kissed his forehead, sighed, and padded off towards the central control room. She knew the doctor would be about, but he'd be tinkering with his beloved machine, the woman he loved, his TARDIS, so she'd have the whole place to herself.

"Show me the doctor" she said, and the virtual reality suite obeyed, the air in front of her flickering to life with an image of the doctor, bending over to reach an obscure part of the undercarriage of the TARDIS, the movements of his subtly fingers eliciting an electronic groan from the console, which Amy found herself strangely echoing. She wondered, not for the first time, whether the Doctor knew that she watched him, now and then. She had, recently, come here to watch him at night, for the companionship that Rory (Bless him, the poor dear. Sound asleep, he had no idea.) couldn't always provide. But she had a different purpose tonight.

Changing program, the image shifted as the suite brought up the virtual doctor she had built up over the hours she had spent here alone. Those shoulders had needed a bit of work, and they still weren't perfect, but she felt it was good enough. she stepped towards it, and, as always, the Doctor's arms were there, open to admit her to his broad, warm chest. She tilted her head, and his lips were again there to catch hers. Their lips touched, the warm feeling spreading across her brain. But this time, it just didn't feel right. The virtual Doctor was accurate, down to the last cell, but inhuman in a way the Doctor never was. A tear dropped from her eye, and that opened the floodgates. She flung herself down onto the chair where she and Rory had been earlier, leaving the virtual Doctor standing quizzically, half turned towards where she had been, his bow-tie hanging loose around his neck. All the touches she had put in to make him more human now just made it worse than ever, so she cried, unstoppably, uncontrollably, tears running down her cheeks as her body was wracked with sobs.

"Amelia," came the voice, "what's wrong? I heard the sobbing, and…" the voice tailed off. "Oh." said the Doctor, as he took in his half dressed counterpart and the crying, beautiful Amy on the floor. His features instantly rearranged to make themselves reassuring, the natural defense of the confused time lord.

"I'm sorry, it's just..Rory…and then you, and I just.." Amy sobbed, as the Doctor crouched next to her, his arm protectively around her shoulders. She threw it off,but unfazed he replaced it. With a shiver, she realised she was still wearing the nightie that she'd picked out for Rory earlier, and the cool breeze reminded her that she had chosen not to wear anything else underneath. This nearly sent her off into yet more tears, but Amy felt strangely stronger with the Doctor so close to her. Drawing herself up and wrapping her arms around her knees to preserve her modesty, she sniffed and shook her head to clear it from the dullness that filled it.

"It's nothing Doctor, I promise. I think I'd like to go to bed now." she whispered, feeling the Doctor's warm breath on her cheek as he leaned in to catch what she had said.

His arms wrapped around her, one under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her up against his chest. He was momentarily confused by the expanse of flesh where his lower hand wrapped around her thigh, but he carried her to her room. Sensing her need to be alone, he carried her to her old room, before she had met Rory, and as she got accustomed to the sensation of being carried, something Rory never did, she relaxed against his firm chest. 'He's better than the virtual Doctor' she thought, and looked up at his face, not surprised to see him looking down at her with a look of concern.

"Doctor," she asked, "could you stay with me tonight? Just for a while, I promise. I'm just tired, and lonely, and I promise it won't be long." Reluctantly, he agreed, and as she lay down on her old TARDIS blue duvet, he sat next to her, took off his shoes, and turned to sit cross legged, facing her. Propping herself up on one elbow, Amy was struck by how much more attractive he was than the virtual Doctor.

"Come here a second Doctor, I think you've got something on your forehead." she said softly, and as he lent in, she seized his lapel and pulled him closer, her lips pressed softly against his.

"Now, Amelia," he murmured, only to be met with her lips as the enveloped his.

"Shh Doctor, don't talk. Just do what I say." Allowing himself to be overwhelmed, the Doctor wrapped his arms around Amy, his strong, warm arms registering on her cool skin as patches of fire through her nightie, and her lips pressed against his.

Her hands explored the vast expanse of his back, reassuringly close, as she ran her fingers through his tangled hair. The double beat of his twin hearts against her chest soothed her, and all the anger, all the pain she had felt and repressed towards this man, this wonderful Doctor, melted away. Here, in her bed, with her lips against his, she knew exactly what she wanted.

"Amy," the Doctor warned as her hand snaked up under his shirt, over the taut stomach she found there, but before he could go any further a slight moan betrayed him, slipping from his lips as water gushes from an broken dam.

"It's been a long time,hasn't it Doctor, since anyone's touched you like that?" Amy asked in her best seductive voice, having seen this reaction.

"Well," blushed the Doctor, uncharacteristically shy, "actually.."

"No!" gasped Amy, sitting up. "Surely not? You're a..?" The word hung in the air, unsaid.

"Yes,"the Doctor confirmed, still blushing. "Time lords don't, well, it's just…" He searched for the words, but none came. "We just don't. So you're,well, sort of, my first." he finished, apologetically.

"I'll be gentle," Amy whispered, "I promise". And with that, she began to unbutton the Doctor's shirt, pulling off the bow tie as she went. The Doctor looked up at her, helplessly, as she slid it off him to be rewarded with his chest, firm, warm and surprisingly muscular.

"It's the regeneration cycle," started the Doctor, but his words were replaced by a soft groan as Amy began to plant soft kisses on his stomach, her warm lips brushing gently against the taut skin. Her kisses were like a brush of satin, and his groan deepened as her hands began to work their way down his body, finding the belt of his trousers and dealing quickly with the buckle, her nimble fingers making short work of it before moving on. He gasped, and Amy groaned in anticipation, as her nails grazed against the shaft that was already pressing upwards against her hand, straining against the fabric that covered it - her fingers tightened over the bulbous head, and her groan became lower as she felt the extent of the thick shaft that pulsed gently in her hand.

Kissing gently down his chest, she caught her first glimpse of the Doctors manhood that was grasped in her hand, and gasped at the thought of its thickness inside her.

"Is it not enough?" the Doctor asked, "I'm not familiar with the male human genitalia, and the TARDIS is…"

"No, Doctor," Amy interrupted, gazing up at him with her big, soft eyes, "it's perfect." She ran her tongue lightly around the contours of the large instrument in front of her, and was rewarded with a soft groan from the Doctor. The throbbing shaft was at least as long as the sonic, and , well, with Rory she wasn't exactly used to anything more than five. Bless him, he tried really hard, but this, this was something else. As she knelt to release it from the fabric holding it, a groan came from the Doctor. Looking up, she saw his eyes fixed upon the curve of her body caused by her kneeling position. Smiling, Amy asked "Would you like a better view?" Wordlessly, the doctor nodded, and Amy straightened, shrugging off the nightie and pulling it up over her head, eliciting a moan from the Doctor as her moistening lower lips and swaying breasts became fully visible. This rose into a groan as her lips finally touched the head of his throbbing manhood.

Running her nails gently along the soft underside, she found that by taking the very tip of it between her lips, and flicking her tongue against the small hole on the top, she could cause the Doctor to groan loudly. She took his hand, and placed it on the back of her head, where his fingers tightened as she gradually slid downwards, taking more and more of him into her mouth until the tip was pressed against her throat, and his fingers were twisted tightly in her hair.

Opening her watering eyes, she was astonished to see that she had at least another two inches before she had all of the Doctor's quivering shaft inside her. Swallowing, drawing another groan from the Doctor, she tried to force herself harder down, managing to slowly slide the head of the thick shaft into her throat, making her eyes glisten with tears as the thickness filled her.

"Amy, what's wrong?" asked the Doctor, concerned, loosening his grip and pulling her up by the shoulders.

"Nothing, " said Amy, her body aflame where his strong hands had grasped her, "I just need to do this."

"But it's hurting you!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Humans, so, so…human!"

"Doctor, listen to me. I want to take your thick, long, hard cock into my throat, all of it, and I want it to fill me right up." said Amy in her best no-nonsense seductive voice, emphasizing each point with a pump of her hand on the Doctor's shaft. "I want you to push my head till it's all inside me, understand?"

The Doctor nodded, suddenly understanding Amy's insistence on finishing what she'd started. It was like a challenge, he saw, to prove to herself she could.

Amy, on the other hand, wanted to show the Doctor that she wanted him badly, that she loved him, and that she was tired of being just his companion, the little girl who waited.

This time, when her soft, parted lips closed around the head, the Doctor was ready, his fingers entwined in Amy's long hair, already mussed from before, as her eyes locked onto his and she began to slip further down the thick, engorged shaft. When he felt himself hit the back of her throat, at a slight nod from Amy, he pressed down on her head, groaning loudly as the head forced its way into her hot, tight throat.

Amy's body was on fire as the Doctor's strong hands controlled her movement, as she felt her self being filled by the wonderful, warm flesh, and as her lips finally reach the soft, sensitive skin at the base of the enormous shaft she had buried deep in her throat. She couldn't handle any more. Her hand crept down her body, snaking over her belly to stroke against the nub that had been aching out for touch. After giving it a few gentle touches, she guided the Doctor's hand to replace hers, and began rolling her tongue to explore the shaft that was filling her mouth and throat.

"Oh Amy," groaned the Doctor, his strong and flexible fingers rubbing against her soaked clitoris, his knees growing weak. As her head began to bob up and down, his head entering and exiting her throat, he moaned loudly and twisted his fingers tighter in her hair.

Suddenly he felt a warmth spreading across his pelvis, up his shaft and through his testicles, around the whole area. "Amy," he gasped, "Don't stop." Then, before he could work out what this sensation was, from the end of his head exploded a jet of white liquid, taking Amy by surprise and filling her throat. As she pulled away, another burst of the warm, wet liquid spilled out, catching Amy on the cheek. He gasped, mortified, but Amy giggled and pumped his shaft with her hand, directing the further spurts at her face.

"I've never liked this before, Doctor," she smiled, "but it's just so, mm…. Hot!". She wrapped her lips around the head, still pumping the shaft with both hands, and set about swallowing what was left of the creamy, sweet liquid, flowing out into her mouth. The Doctor had returned to the nub she had guided him to, and was rewarded with a shiver running down Amy's spine as she involuntarily bucked her hips against his hand, still swallowing the uncommonly sweet liquid.

"Fuck Doctor, don't stop that. Keep going!" she moaned through a mouthful of juices, then went back to running her tongue over the sensitive head of the Doctor's still bulging shaft.

Sneaking a glance up at his face, she saw his tongue was poked out in concentration, and that gave her an idea. "Doctor," she begged, "can you lick this for me?". Momentarily looking confused, the Doctor hesitated, but Amy knew he was all hers tonight. He wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon. She swiveled her hips, and planed one knee either side of his head.

After an experimental lick, causing Amy to spasm and groan in pleasure, and a bit of encouragement from Amy, the Doctor began to lap his tongue up and down the moistening lips of her outer labia, his flat tongue spreading them gently as Amy groaned, imploring him to run his tongue along the folds of the inner lips, and flick it over the dripping nub that burned to be touched. Amy shook with pleasure, her hips grinding against his face, urging him deeper into her, and when his fingers found her nipples, it served only to make her even more determined to come for him. Pressing down against his lips, her back arched, she rode against his face, her hands exploring his body for the points that would let her urge him onwards, to control him, to make him go deeper and faster until she could bear it no more and screamed.

All the longing, all the years of teenage fantasies and unsatisfied dreams of her Doctor found release in that scream, culminating in this moment with his tongue inside her lips, his fingers bright points of fire on her body.

She threw back her head as she screamed, her legs shaking as her juices flowed freely down the Doctor's face still nestled between them, and she collapsed, falling face first, her muscles giving way to the waves of ecstasy that were still flowing from where the Doctor, the marvelous Doctor, was still coaxing new life out of her with his tongue. Surprising the Doctor, she rolled off him, and kissed him strongly, their mixture of juices tasting sweet on her tongue.

Amy lay next to him, her arms over his broad chest as he looped his around her protectively. She knew that, no matter what happened, she would always have her doctor, and they would always have this moment of complete bliss. But that didn't mean she wouldn't be back, to show him what she'd been waiting all this time to show him. Happy in the knowledge that she had finally, finally managed it, and glowing softly with joy, she kissed the Doctor gently, and Amy fell asleep, the Doctor looking down at her protectively, his eyes promising he'd never leave her side.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's like this doctor," Rory began, shifting uncomfortably in the oversized leather chair. "My wife and I, well, we've been married for nearly a year now, and there are already, well, cracks appearing in our lives." He winced unconsciously at the word, which still brought a cold, empty feeling to the pit of his stomach ever time he heard it. Trying to relieve the tension he felt in the momentary silence that followed, Rory tried a joke.

"We only got a bible as a wedding gift. Said we'd been living in sin too long already." The lack of sound was deafening, and this did little to alleviate Rory's discomfort. Desperate to escape the clamouring of the silence that filled the room, he fled in his mind back through the islands of memory that had not been engulfed by the doubt and turmoil that gripped him, driving him here to speak to a professional.

He had waited anxiously on the pavement that day, his head wracked with indecision. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? His hand dropped to his pocket, his fingers closing on the soft touch of the hard case padded in velvet nestling against his leg, reassuring him by its promise of solidity, and solidifying his resolve. He wanted this, and his head told him that she did too, and that this was the right time. He had prepared enough, he told himself, and to back out now would mean that he was a coward. And by God, he thought, his fist balling up so tightly that his fingernails dug deep into his palm, he would not let her down like that coward, that damn Doctor!

"Mr Pond!" the doctor warned, anxiously, snapping Rory out of his reverie. "Control yourself!" He gestured impatiently towards Rory. Looking down, he was only half surprised to see his hand clenched, the same way it had been in his memory. Deliberately, he flexed it open, and placed it reassuringly over the armrest's curved end, fixing his gaze resolutely on an indistinguishable point on the wall opposite him, ignoring the cold leather on the red welt left by his nails, and focussed on the flames he felt inside him, forcing them into submission. They slunk away, back into the eternally burning place inside him where the flames of hatred always smouldered.

"Could you repeat the question, doctor?" Rory asked in a careful, measured tone that did not betray the emotions running high through his system.

"I merely wondered, Mr Pond, if you could explain the exact circumstances of your engagement to your wife…" checking his notes, the doctor concluded, "Amelia? Since it seems to be a source of such discomfort for you, I consider it a possible origin of your current obstacles to marital satisfaction. I noted the fact that you were twisting the ring around your finger during your, ahhh…" Tactfully, the doctor paused, searching for the words that would encourage his patient to speech. The pause caused Rory to look up; drawing his attention to the soft, seemingly inconsequential word that dropped from the doctor's lips seemed to ring deafeningly through the silence in Rory's ears. "Episode." The significance of the single word to the doctor's eventual diagnosis was not lost on Rory.

Looking down at the ring, he remembered how beautiful Amy had looked, the plain gold band shining against her pale skin as he had slid it onto her finger, gently supporting her trembling wrist with the other hand. He'd looked up at her, her long red hair that hung down in front of her glowing as the sun behind her shone through it, and cast a dancing golden light around her head, and at that moment his heart had been in his mouth so proud was he of how beautiful she was, and speaking those words he had thought about time and time again over his time with her. His eyes had pricked with tears as he saw the glistening at the corners of her eyes, he from joy but she…

The ring had hung around her neck for months before she wore it again, around a chain instead of her finger, and he had not once questioned her.

Sitting in the doctor's uncomfortable chair, he found his eyes again begin to fill with hot, salty tears for his happiest memories were now as nothing, so pervasive was the doubt that he felt. Yes, doubt. He realised now it was not anger at the Doctor that had driven him here, or that fuelled the flames raging inside him, but doubt. A terrible, sickening self doubt that was tinged with loathing for himself, for all his happiest moments had been overshadowed by the conviction that he was not good enough for her, second best to the maddening transcendence of her elusive 'raggedy Doctor'. All his memories were now stained by doubt, no longer of Amy and her feelings for his rival, but of himself, and his sanity in attempting to match himself against the Doctor.

"There there, Mr Pond," consoled the doctor awkwardly, not used to seeing a grown man break down so completely in his consulting room. "I can see that you've had a traumatic experience. You feel violated and upset. We must do something. I'll have the nurse bring in a nice, hot drink for you, and then we can discuss how to restore your lost confidence. Your commentary of your perceptions during your experience has been most enlightening, and I believe I can suggest a course of action that may improve your situation."

Hands clasped numbly around the Styrofoam cup containing an untouched volume of hot, sickly coffee, Rory Williams listened wordlessly to the doctor's suggestions, nodding earnestly at suggestions of negotiating control and asserting dominance, as he began to see a plan emerging from the doctor's speech. His brain, long unused to a need for independently forming plans (such was the life he led with Amy and the Doctor in charge), grasped onto the lifeline that the doctor had presented. An anniversary and evening of just him and Amy, a chance to prove himself, his own abilities, to both of them. He and the doctor sat and spoke about courses and therapies, stimulants and medicines, but his mind raced over the same track; to prove himself, he had to give Amy the best anniversary that was possible. When he left the session, his hand still gripping the cup subconsciously, he was a new man, positive that his love for Amy could pull him through his self-doubt.

When the day came, Rory spent the whole day running rings around Amy, letting her relax, and attentive to every need before she even knew she had it. He picked out, for their relaxing evening in, a remake of Amy's favourite action film by the crystal eyeball race that he disliked so much. It combined the two things that she loved, aliens and action. He was disappointed, therefore, that the whole way through the film she was staring listlessly off into space, and he became worried when she seemed to find it dull. But he put that down to the translation, which he assumed was done by someone with very little grasp of English.

However, it did give him a chance to implement the next stage of his plan, a chance which he grabbed with both hands. In giving Amy a good night's rest, something he knew she rarely got these days what with all the adventuring and excitement, he planned to give her a full day and night of relaxation. Throwing the Doctor a warning look not to disturb her, he led her to their room.

Rory collapsed on the bed, exhausted after spending the whole day fixing things so that Amy wouldn't need to lift a finger, and waited for Amy to finish in the bathroom. Probably brushing her hair, he thought, smiling. When he heard the buckle of her belt hit the floor, however, he was even happier. Just like her, he thought, to take a long, relaxing bath before bed on their anniversary. Today he'd outdone himself and his expectations, and as he fell quickly to sleep, he brought the portrait of his wife, the one that he had so lovingly produced after weeks of work, to his lips, before drifting off, smiling.

He awoke with the covers neatly placed over him, and smiled at his wife's thoughtfulness. It was still dark, and he rolled to face her expecting to see her gentle curves silhouetted against the door's light as she lay in bed, only to be met with the impression that she had left on the blanket, and the damp patch where her head had been. Rolling over, Rory began to cry.


End file.
